


mutual understandings

by liginamite



Category: Pacific Rim
Genre: Canon Disabilities, Gen, Kaiju Drifting - Freeform, Post-Canon, newt the small mother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 18:57:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liginamite/pseuds/liginamite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermann's got a notorious reputation for telling someone to do something for their own benefit and never doing it himself. Like resting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	mutual understandings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [feriowind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feriowind/gifts).



> taking a break from writing my minibang/big bang (read: procrastinating on) to write a little drabble for feriowind who is an absolutely wonderful artist and has the most fantastic au ever and you should all go see it >w

Talking Newton into getting a few hours of sleep has never been an easy task. In the past it’s been mostly coercion and, a few memorable times, bartering with such valuable chips like getting to play his music for an entire day. It’s become harder, now that Newt’s calling himself a proud mother, but Marshal Hansen is still apprehensive about allowing Hans to wander the Shatterdome even with an escort, and Newt needs to sleep on something other than blankets strewn on the floor. 

A manic period, and one that’s been terribly difficult to talk through.

“I’ll watch him,” Hermann insists, because he can feel the grumpy irritation just behind his left eye that he knows isn’t his. Newt scowls at him from his own desk, dark circles under his eyes, but it’s clear that the prospect of a warm, comfortable bed is starting to grow on him. “For God’s sake, Newton, you look dead on your feet.” 

“I still have a ridiculous amount of _stuff_ to do,” Newt says, because _no curse words in front of the baby._ From next to him, Hans is scuffing at the floor anxiously, the waves of tiredness that continue to roll off of Newt clearly having some effect. He wants Newt to sleep just as much as Hermann does, of that he’s sure. “I still have reports to submit and they might be bringing in more of the frozen parts from the Mutavore attack, and, and jeez dude I’m still getting emails from all those different colleges who want me to come in and speak and that’s _without_ them knowing about Baby, and anyways I can’t leave him on his own--”

“Newton, I’m fairly certain I can handle him. We have an understanding” He taps his temple once. “For the sake of yourself _and_ Hans, will you at least get a nap in before you collapse into one of your specimens?” 

The magic words, then. Newt works his mouth for a second or two, clearly trying to drag up another reason to argue, but Hans bumps at Newt’s hand and his expression goes from defiant to loving so quickly Hermann almost gets mental whiplash. He rubs at the the sharp jut of horns and Hans makes a happy noise, his tail thumping once against the floor.

“Okay, okay, fine,” he acquiesces at last. “Just a couple hours. Fine.” 

He nuzzles against Hans’ head, cooing softly about Mommy coming back in a little while while Hermann fights the urge to roll his eyes, and then with a surprising amount of ease he’s out, the door shutting behind him with a loud click. Hans, for his part, settles down on Newt’s side of the lab, docile and calm in the wake of his mother’s departure. Hermann regards him silently for a moment, but clearly Hans needs a nap as well, and Hermann resolves to keep one eye on him and one on his work.

He sighs and rubs at his temples. Truth be told he needed some damned _quiet_ in the lab, between Newt’s incessant chattering and the pulses of pain that have been travelling up and down his bad leg all day. He’s been hiding it from partner and Kaiju both, though Hermann gets the impression that Newt at the very least can tell that something’s off. Hermann doesn’t often sit at his desk for more than a few hours at a time; usually he’s already scaled his ladder and accumulated a fair amount of chalk on his shoulders.

But now that it’s quiet and he’s scribbling down on paper rather than clattering figures and algorithms onto his blackboards, he can feel the ache as it travels towards his hip. It’s a bad day, more so than usual, and finally he puts his pen down and tries to ward off the headache that’s trying to make its way behind his eyes. He needs to figure out a way to predict if another Breach could open, if there are factors from the first one that could be used to create a new predictive model, ah, another hard pulse of pain travels up and settles hard into his thigh and he winces.

If he could just _concentrate_ past it--

_[hermann]_

He jolts and turns, startled, and finds Hans closer than before, with his head cocked in his direction, eyes wide and uncertain. He shuffles closer, still a bit awkward on big paws that clack against the floor. Hermann feels it again, a warm pulse just behind his left eye, not a word but more of a feeling. It’s a sensation like a filmy coating of chalk on his tongue and the hard rap of his cane against metal, the squeak of ladder wheels and the smell of dusty sweaters. All, he has come to known, decidedly unpleasant things, but with the way Hans views them, you’d think they were a treasure.

_[hermann?]_

_[hurt?]_

For a moment, Hermann is concerned that Hans can feel pulses of the hot sting that runs up and down his leg, but it seems more likely that he feels the exhaustion it causes, the irritation prickling at the back of his skull. It’s a relief, if not a small one, and he tries not to wince when another spike of pain crinkles into a sharp ball in his knee.

_[hermann is… hurt?]_

The worry is tangible, and Hermann hurries to correct him. “No, no, not--well. Yes. A little.” Concern washes over him again. "Only a little."

Hans moves closer, and with a gentleness that belies his size, he lowers his head and nudges the thigh of Hermann’s bad leg with a burst of curiosity and worry. It stings, as it always does, but when Hans looks back up it is with a new sort of awareness. He circles around the desk slowly, trying to find the source of Hermann’s pain, as if perhaps he could ward it away himself. Hermann watches, fascinated. Surely at such a young age problem-solving should be a little too advanced, but then, nothing about Newt’s created wonder has been anything like Hermann’s expected. 

He seems to have picked up on the fact that it’s not any particular pain caused by an outside source, because he turns back around and stops at Hermann’s side again. He studies Hermann quietly, his curiosity rolling off of him in waves. Finally he nudges Hermann again.

_[safe]_

A warm, gentle feeling wraps around his chest, bright vivid colors and soft mutterings that take no further shape, but Hermann can tell what it is. It’s what Hans perceives as safe, the feeling of Newt’s presence burned bright into the center of his chest. It’s such a familiar, comforting feeling that Hermann’s eyes flutter closed, his lips parting into a contented sigh. The pain in his leg tapers down from a spike into the prickle of a needle. The relief of it is startling and welcome, and his pen very nearly drops from his fingers he’s gone so relaxed.

Hans makes a soft noise, almost like a purr, and butts his head against Hermann’s shoulder. His eyes are big and earnest, delighted with Hermann’s comfort.

_[hermann is safe]_

“Yes, sweet thing,” Hermann finally says softly, and he just _knows_ Newt, half asleep, is crowing in delight, flicking the shards of his triumph at the back of Hermann’s head like a child. “Yes, I am safe. Thank you.” 

Something rumbles deep in the Kaiju’s massive chest, and he puts his head down on the desk. There’s a smile in his eyes, and Hermann finally reaches out and touches his fingers to hard skin. Hans snorts once, ruffling the papers on the desk, and his eyes close slowly at Hermann’s touch. There’s a sudden thump as Hans sets himself down, using the desk as a rest for his head. 

The waves of relaxation are slumping his shoulders, eyelids growing heavy with each rise and fall of breath as Hans settles into a doze. Thinking on his words to Newt, Hermann very carefully stacks his papers up and sets them off to the side before he crosses his arms and rests his cheek down against his sleeve. Something casual for him, but things have changed in the months since the Drift, and Hermann thinks he can spare some of his stiff demeanor for some quick sleep as well.

 _Truly a marvel_ , he thinks to himself, and fights down a yawn.

-

Newt stumbles back into the lab with a surprising amount of energy for only a two hour nap, mouth still stretched open in a yawn as he pulls the door open.

“So two hours is all I’m gonna allow just so you know--” he starts to declare, but pauses mid-sentence, fingers still splayed on the door. Finally his face breaks out into a wide grin as he fumbles into his pocket. Hermann’s cheek is all squished up against the corduroy of his jacket, sure to leave criss-crossing impressions against his skin, and he’s clearly dead to the world. From next to him, propped on the desk, Hans snores softly, tail swaying back and forth in sleep, and the whole sight of it is so damn cute that Newt genuinely thinks he might die from it.

Finally getting what he’d been searching for, Newt snaps a picture and chuckles gleefully at his phone. Oh, this is getting _framed._


End file.
